


I Know

by Servetolive



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: COVID19, Chocobos, Healing Through Movement, Helicopters, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Isolation, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pandemic - Freeform, Pole Dancing, Relief Work, Reno (Compilation of FFVII)-centric, Separation Anxiety, Slow Burn, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, cloud being a country boy, self quarantine, social distancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: Reno seemed to be running on enough adrenaline for him to focus on things other than the fact that he wouldn’t be making out with Cloud in public or sharing a blunt with him in private; that all the new ways they’d found pleasure and comfort within the confines of their relationship had been ripped away overnight.Reno is essential. Cloud is vulnerable. Mourning isn't really their thing, but neither is this whole "distance" bit.
Relationships: Reno/Cloud Strife
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Catching Feelings





	1. Branches

**Author's Note:**

> Song for this chapter is [The Branches](https://youtu.be/1qHDhBQARlU) by Long Arm.

It was like The Planet was still pissed at them and wanted them gone for good.

The Shinra scientists that could have told the world where the virus had come from and how to fight it were still very dead, and their replacements were still very young and had yet to complete their training in Mideel, although they quickly found themselves in the very powerful and stressful position of being tasked with doing so anyway.

Kind of like Reno. He’d been trained for sorties, not relief, but he had the unenviable position of being one of a handful of skilled pilots left to run essential drops to and from Midgar, Junon. He was mobilized as soon as the infected count breached two-thousand--which wasn’t a lot, but for the stacked living situation of Midgar’s inhabitants, one didn’t need to be Reeve or a virologist to understand how serious things would get in the next several days and weeks.

Almost immediately, the vulnerable members of their group were shuttered away. Rufus disappeared into his unmarked chateau west of Kalm, Tifa closed the bar and forbade her charges from leaving or anyone else from visiting--friends included--and Cloud had predictably begun packing for his isolation in the Plains before anyone had even advised him to do so.

As field hospitals were being thrown up outside of Edge, Reno tossed Cloud’s duffel bags into his helicopter, its blades still whirring. Cloud wore a sleeved jacket, zipped to the neck, long pants, gloves, and a face mask, and it briefly occurred to Reno that this was the most clothes he’d ever seen his friend wear since they’d been enemies.

“That everything?” Reno asked, his voice muffled by his own mask, which was much heavier than the thin paper one that Cloud wore, and looked odd containing his face when his red hair stuck out in all directions. It had been years since he’d donned a flight suit, and now he was masked and gloved, his sleeves bonded tightly to his wrists with duct tape. He tried not to think of the heat and the sweat rolling down his back as he wiped his hairline with the inside of his elbow--then cursed himself for touching his face.

 _I’m clean,_ he had to reassure himself.

Cloud’s lightest sword--he’d need nothing heavier--was the last thing to load. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

With no need for pre-checks, Reno advised Cloud to strap himself in so they could take off.

“Take it easy, Reno,” Cloud asked. “Please.”

All Reno did was nod. Without being able to see his friend’s facial expressions, the experience of talking to him before he was about to drop him off in the middle of nowhere before who-knows-how-long was a strange one that he didn’t want much to do with.

\--

The thirty minute ride to Cloud’s small cabin west of the Old Man’s chocobo farm was almost completely silent, save for the chatter on the radio. Cloud did his best to focus on one point on the horizon to keep from getting sick, but this was the longest time Reno had shut up since they began seeing each other. Like everything else happening around them, it was unsettling.

It hadn’t been long, but the last few months had been an intense whirlwind of absolutely every goddamned thing; Cloud had no idea humans were capable of so much range of emotion. Reno was the first person he’d ever met that he could talk to about nothing for hours, or listen to for hours; the first person he could sit in quiet with, just vibing with each other and soaking up the other’s energy or lack thereof. They were different and had so much in common; they talked about their time in Shinra, compared grunt stories, shared their guilt about the past. Cloud watched videos on his phone while Reno sat next to him, drawing out designs for tattoos or sketching still objects. 

They shared space the way they shared cigarettes. Reno was the only person that could invade Cloud’s space the way that he did, and they would talk to each other with faces only inches apart, Reno’s loud voice hushed and low as if he only wanted Cloud to hear what he said. Cloud normally avoided eye contact, but he repaid Reno’s exclusive intimacy with his full attention, blue eyes to blue eyes, and it always appeared to observers that they drank each other up while only talking about the weather or their week’s plans.

They danced like they fucked, and the whole world that saw them had no issue imagining the latter. No enemies to fight left them with free time to explore themselves without the Company bleeding into their identities. Reno had no trouble with that; he’d been many things before a Turk and a soldier, but the military was all Cloud knew, and transformation had been a unique one. Reno had done street dancing since he was a kid, Cloud picked up pole dancing to recover atrophied muscle from his long illness, and they met each other in the middle. 

Cloud’s gymnastic abilities from his time in the army had given him a knack for this new craft that had gotten him to the position of an instructor within six months. It had taken more than a decade for Reno to be that good, but he didn’t care. He loved seeing Cloud move his body in unexpected ways; he loved teaching Cloud choreography in his own craft, and he loved how willing a student he was.

Dancing was their second bed. It was their primary form of communication besides sex, and now all of it was gone. Gone, for the foreseeable future. No classes, no showcases, no shared knowledge, no shared space, no shared cigarettes, no shared pole, no shared bed. Just unreadable gazes over partially obscured faces.

Cloud tried not to think about that. _He,_ at least, was fine being alone for long stretches of time, and had experience with compartmentalizing grief, but he worried for his friend, who was widely known to be rather shit at containing himself or doing without.

For now, Reno seemed to be running on enough adrenaline for him to focus on things other than the fact that he wouldn’t be making out with Cloud in public or sharing a blunt in private with him; that all the new ways they’d found pleasure and comfort within the confines of their relationship had been ripped away overnight. 

When things slowed down a bit, Reno would be the first to lose it. Cloud knew it, but he sat there and said nothing until the helicopter landed near the grassy knoll about a half-click away from the half-furnished cabin Cloud had bought a season ago.

Reno did nothing to change that. He left his mask in his seat, left the engine running, kicking up grass and dirt and pollen all around them, dismounted and immediately set to grabbing as many of Cloud’s things as he could carry. Cloud jumped out himself and did the same, squinting his eyes against the foreign particles that flew into them.

They worked in tandem like they were on some jungle mission, like they’d known each other in their infantry days. They didn’t waste a single movement, passing each other items to set on the ground, rotating to grab more. Their last dance for a good while.

It was getting dark. Both of them needed to hurry for different reasons. Reno was expected in Junon to pick up personnel and supplies, and he preferred not to fly at night. Cloud had no electricity and needed to rectify that before his phone died and his perishable food went bad.

“Drop it here.” It was about twenty paces from the front door, but the items were heavy and Cloud didn’t want to keep Reno. 

“You sure?” Before Reno got an answer, he set the box of cooking supplies down and dropped the duffel bag he’d carried.

Cloud ripped off his paper mask, now filled with bits of hay and other allergens. 

“Yeah. Go,” he encouraged. 

Cloud’s hair whipped around, strands of it smacking harshly into his eyes, causing him to squint. Reno’s look was indecipherable, a sign that he was miles away from Cloud and their shared life already. Cloud was glad for that. Had millions of people not been counting on Reno then, and had he been capable of realizing in that moment that this was the last time he would actually see Cloud’s face for what promised to be a very long while, he would have violated both Cloud’s _and_ Mideel’s social distance boundary and drowned him with his tongue.

Quietly, he admired that about Reno; his unwavering professionalism and his focus when something was important. It was a quality his own branch of friends never saw over his swagger and brashness.

He’d wanted to end on a lighter note, and tell him how good he looked in a flight suit, but it seemed grossly inappropriate to do at that moment, with Reno’s hardened mindset in full consideration. All he could manage was “Take care of yourself. Wash your hands.”

“You too, Cloud.” Reno turned back toward his bird, calling out over his shoulder, his voice getting louder as he approached the chopper’s blades. “Call if you need somethin’, and I’ll get it to you.”

“I will.” He would try not to, really, but he said it for Reno’s sake. “Text me when you’re home!”

“Keep your fuckin’ phone on!” The last thing Reno yelled from the seat of his chopper before taking off was “And call Tifa!”

Cloud shielded his eyes and watched the aircraft for a few moments more before tearing away and moving into work mode himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is practicing social distancing like our boys here, and staying healthy and sane in isolation, and that you have a dear loved one either living with you or talking to you. I'm in my feels about this, so I hope this can bring some comfort and maybe catharsis to others who are mourning the disruption of their every day lives, like I am. <3


	2. Technical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reno takes grave inventory of the situation, and does what he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is [Technically, Missing](https://youtu.be/2Eh6FBTAcWc) by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross.

The trip to Junon was only supposed to last about as long as it took to get there, but the ritual of inventory and decontamination had placed Reno’s departure time at 2300. The medics that were meant to go with him refused, preferring instead to return home and leave at Junon until first light.

Junon was the last place Reno wanted to be for any stretch of time. The idea of having to either sleep over at his mother's place or hear her incessant bitching once she inevitably found out he'd stayed in the barracks instead made him nauseous. 

No amount of swearing or cajoling could convince them to make the forty-five minute trip back to Midgar. The soldiers had all been conveniently converted into contractors, and in the time since Meteorfall, they'd learned how to take full advantage of that. A phone call from Cid made the night worse.

“Cid,” Reno said, turning from the medics and making his way off the heliport. “You motherfucker, please give me some good fuckin’ news.”

“You’re supposed to give _me_ the good news, dumbass!” Cid hollered through the phone. Reno found a chance to smile. He figured that one day, when he was old and crusty, he'd be just like Cid, who didn't even have that many years on him. "Ain't you taking doctors over there?" 

"Not doctors, medics. They're all in Midgar already. There ain't no more." Reno lit a cigarette, knowing that Cid was likely doing the same. "I could use some help here, y'know."

"I know that, idjit! What do you think I'm doing?" 

"What's going on with the Highwind?" 

"Highwind is in Mideel already. Shera's getting geared up n' ready to go, I just need a crew."

Reno paused. "What happened to the one you got?" 

"One of 'em got sick."

Reno's heart sank. "One?" 

"If one's sick, they're all sick." Cid ended the sentence with a brief string of dry coughs. Normally this would have been attributed to his smoker's lung and wouldn't be a problem but something about it didn't sound right. Or Reno could be overreacting. 

"You alright there, Old Man?" 

"Go fuck yourself," Cid squeezed out between coughs. 

Reno didn't feel good about it. "I dunno. Might wanna lay off the smoking for a bit."

"I'm gettin' off this phone, before I reach through it and choke your ass out."

Reno stood on the helipad for a moment to collect himself. 

Experience and a sour gut feeling told him that he'd be on his own for a minute. 

He turned back to the helipad and dialed the number of one of the medics who was supposed to be on the flight to Midgar. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, it's your pilot." Reno spoke clearly and took the edge out of his accent, to give himself the best opportunity at being understood the first time he explained. "Here's what I want you to do. You're gonna find me two people to replace you on this flight. You're gonna tell them that people are needing their help in Midgar, and you're gonna tell them to meet me at the helipad with their gear in a half hour. Tell them the dude with red hair is gonna be waiting on them. Got it?"

"Yeah," a yawn, "Got it."

"Then repeat it back to me."

A pause. "Everyone's asleep."

"Wake them up." Reno wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. 

"... And what if I don't?" 

Reno paused himself, and his tongue slackened. "You will, because I have the fuckin' crew manifest, and I know your fuckin' names, and I know where you're billeted, so you'll either get your lazy asses on this flight like you're s'pposed to, find suitable replacements, or I'm coming down to the Medical Det F Company, A Suite, Room… " Reno paused to look at his phone, "...309, and I'mma throw you and your fuck buddy there out that three story window, and nobody's gonna be there to scrape you off the fuckin' concrete, cuz they'll all be in Midgar doin' their jobs while you two hid in your rooms like pussies." 

"Heard." Click. 

It took everything for Reno not to throw his phone. Since the Administrative Research Division had ceased to function as an entity, he hadn't been in the habit of reminding people that he was once a Turk, but if he were that kind of asshole, none of that would have been necessary. 

They made good on their agreement. In thirty five minutes, two energetic female medics ran up to Reno with their packs, obviously eager to escape Junon's strict containment rules. 

"Midgar?" One of them said. 

"I'll be damned!" Reno tossed his cigarette and kicked himself off the side of his vehicle. "Y'all ready to work?" 

"Please," the younger one said. "Get us out of here."

“You got it.”


	3. What I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cloud remembers he and Reno's first serious discussion as he adjusts to life in isolation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is [I Only Know What I Know Now](https://youtu.be/JItKkJ8J8l4) by James Blake.

Cloud spent the bulk of his night racing against time and kerosene to follow Barret's directions on how to get his generator running in the dark, working with both hands and a cold ration hanging from his mouth. It was around three in the morning by the time he’d finished unpacking everything as best as he could and laid out on his old bed roll to sleep.

He made his texting rounds, answering messages from Tifa that he’d had to swipe through earlier while speaking to Barret.

_Everything okay? 20:33_

_i’m good now 03:12_

Cloud watched the moving ellipses, then backed out of his conversation with Tifa to see the last text sent by Reno.

_i’m outside 17:58_

Of all people, he’d expected to hear from Reno, at least to tell him that he’d made it home and was crashing; a salacious remark about missing him in the middle of the night.

There was nothing though, and despite his disappointment, Cloud yawned. He was tired and had a long day ahead of him. Reno must either be passed out, or--hopefully not--still working. The urge to want to wait for his response was staved off by a faint reminder of what happened the last time he felt strongly enough about a person to hang onto every last word they said.

He reassured Tifa that everything was in order, toggled the _Do Not Disturb_ icon before she answered, and shut his brain off for the night.

\--

Reno didn’t return to his apartment until well after five thirty. The fact that he had to head straight for the shower instead of just flopping onto his mattress as soon as his shoes were off sent waves of pain down his spine.

He could barely even stand.

It wasn’t until he was clean, naked and half-sunk into his bed that his mind began auto-reviewing the events of the day as he fell asleep. It rewinded to the last time he saw Cloud at the grassy knoll and he remembered the way his fingers curled around his mask and tore it off, pulling the blonde strands from his face and mouth, standing outside to watch him go instead of immediately gathering his things to take inside, as he would have in any normal situation.

He woke from his sleep and relived the memory over and over. Cloud had wanted to say something. He’d wanted to do something, and knew he couldn’t. Reno didn’t even notice; his mind was so focused on his mission. He knew he shouldn’t fault himself for this, but couldn’t help it. He tried to recreate the last memory he had of Cloud in his head, lest he lose it forever.

Of the many pleasures Reno enjoyed in life, looking into Cloud’s glowing eyes was high among the best of them. The last thought he had before passing out was that he would be unable to do so for the indeterminable future, and he had taken that potentially final moment for granted.  
  
  
\--

Cloud’s dreams were almost never a figment of his imagination, but historical events repeated with varying levels of accuracy. As he got older, they became mere rehashes of what had actually happened, which worked either to his advantage or not.

Alone, and with nothing in the environment to pollute his mind, Cloud dreamed about the first date he’d gone on with Reno.

\--

It wasn’t _really_ a date, persay; Cloud’s mind processed it as such because it was the first time in years he felt that tingling urge to follow someone and experience life in the same atmosphere with them.

Sephiroth was a fading memory for Reno and everyone else, but Cloud’s post-Geostigma trip to the Lifestream had caused wounds to heal that he wasn’t previously aware of. Months after his recovery, he had insisted on accompanying Reno, an unlikely caretaker of his during his coma, to his morbid job of scaling Midgar’s ruins and cataloguing the dead.

“Really?” Reno asked, his body half turned to Cloud. “You bein’ serious? Lemme tell ya, it ain’t easy work, and it damn sure ain’t pretty.”

Cloud turned his cup of tea in his hand, and leaned on the railing of Tifa’s porch. “I feel useless,” he admitted with a shrug. “I want to help.”

At that time, he’d only started pole classes a week prior, and wasn’t confident with himself enough to know that it was something that he’d want to continue. He was at the weakest he’d been in a decade; everyone around him did everything better than him for the first time since he had become an adult. He needed something else.

Reno appeared to think about it. “Old Girl ain’t gonna kill me, is she?”

Cloud smiled. “I think she’ll be glad to have me out of the house for a bit.” In reality, it was _he_ who wanted to disappear. There were more children living with them than he could deal with, all asking questions he couldn’t answer, looking to him for attention and guidance he had no way of giving.

“Okay,” Reno relented, nodding as he walked in the opposite direction of the bar. “Meet me at the Number Three reactor ruins. That’s where we start tomorrow.”

“Got it.”

“See ya,” Reno waved and went about his way. Cloud didn’t know it at the time, but he lingered on the steps to watch Reno go to experience more time with him. 

“See ya,” he said, more to himself, enjoying the way it rolled off the tongue.

Midgar stank; it had always smelled bad, but the weeks and months after Meteorfall gave its stench a new identity. The years in between had made living in Edge easier, but at ground zero, it was a new type of death-smell that Cloud had yet to experience: old, moldy, stale, suffocating, dusty, and still rotten. Burnt plastic and metal among the ghost wafts of burnt hair and skin.

Cloud arrived on time, trying not to cover his nose. The smell made his eyes water. Reno was giving directions to other members of the body disposal team when he saw him and smiled, genuinely surprised that he would turn up. He seemed wholly unaffected by his surroundings.

“Ready, Spike?”

He had Cloud suit up in white hazmat gear and a mask to protect from toxic solid particles. “Remember your training?” Reno had asked, holding the mask out to him. “Can you clear your mask?”

Without speaking, Cloud took the mask, pressed it to his face, pulled the webbing over the back of his head, tightened it, covered the main voicemitter, exhaled harshly to blow out contaminated hair, and inhaled. The mask sealed against the outside of his face, and he gave Reno a gloved thumbs up.

“Hm,” Reno smirked, and then put his own mask on. His red hair disappeared beneath his hood as he pulled the drawstrings around it. “Some things,” he said, sounding strange and mechanical through his mask, “you don’t forget.”

And as promised, the work _was_ difficult, grotesque and both emotionally and physically exhausting. Reno had given Cloud a handful of brightly colored flags attached to wire to mark human remains in places that were inaccessible, and that accounted for the majority of bodies they found.

Cloud felt overwhelmed the very first time he set foot onto a wobbling piece of metal and realized that there was a hand underneath it, but Reno knew exactly what to do, and his cool demeanor was the best medicine.

“Hold up,” he’d said, placing an arm out against Cloud’s abdomen, so he’d back up.  
“Step back. Help me with this.”

Cloud obeyed, and took one piece of the flooring while Reno took the other. He nearly dropped it when he saw what was underneath it.

“Steady, Cloud,” Reno said, calmly.

“Sorry.” Cloud was embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a decomposing body, but he was having trouble dismissing this one as an inanimate object. After all, it was _his_ fault they were there.

“You’re fine,” Reno said. “Hold that up for a second?”

The policy was to photograph the bodies, collect DNA samples, and keep them on file, since there were so few forensic pathologists to help with the identification process. This was the best they could do. As soon as Reno finished with his camera, Cloud dropped the panel and they moved on.

Together, they photographed eighteen bodies that day. Cloud was psychologically done after the eighth, and he could have left at any moment, but something about the surprisingly methodical way in which Reno worked had fascinated him enough to make him stay longer. That, and the fact that he had told the man that he would help, and was tired of being dead weight to his expanding circle of support.

As they advanced into the ruins, Cloud realized that certain parts of his body began to swell with pain. At around six in the evening, Reno looked up.

Cloud followed suit, realizing how the twisted metal opened up into the sky. He couldn’t help but think that for many of the people buried, this was the only time they’d ever been exposed to it.

When a few drops of rain splashed on their glass eyepieces, Reno lifted the hand that held the radio.

“Break, break, break.” He rattled the words out like a machine gun, and released the button before continuing. “Red One. Listen up. It’s raining, folks. We need to pull out.”

The familiar jargon caused something pivotal to dawn on Cloud, and he was assaulted with the fascinating image of Reno standing there, not in white hazmat, but the same uniform he’d worn himself as a teenager.

“Cloud.”

Cloud shook himself free of the distraction. “Huh?”

“Go back,” Reno said, motioning with the knife end of his gloved hand. “We’re done for the day. We can’t work if it’s raining.”

Cloud looked behind him at the opening in the junk. It had been seven hours, but they’d only moved about a mile and a half.

As he pulled his gloves off--they’d torn some fifteen meters and two hours ago--he found it disheartening that Reno would be back there the same day, and the day after, and after, tagging an endless quantity of bodies as their value depleted with time.

\--

The brief storm had lasted only a few minutes, but it was late and seven made for a good stopping point.

They decontaminated and sat down to have water at the staging area set up at the start of the work day. Cloud was relieved to have his mask off. The claustrophobia it caused was a well-known fact for anyone who had been forced to wear one, but it was something that he never became accustomed to. The hairs on his forehead were soaked, and sweat pooled in the rubber crevices of his mask.

When someone came to collect their masks for decon, Reno unzipped his suit to fish out a cigarette. The experience had wiped Cloud out, but Reno moved with as much energy and enthusiasm as he had in the morning.

“Give me one,” Cloud said, weakly.

Reno nodded in assent. “Didn’t think you smoked,” he said, offering Cloud one. He leaned over and lit it for him.

“I do right now.”

“Haha,” Reno chuckled. “I told you it wasn’t easy.”

Cloud took the first puff of a cigarette he'd had since he was probably fourteen, and let it sit in his lungs before exhaling. Maybe it was the quality of the brand Reno smoked, but it wasn't as bad as he remembered. 

“I don’t understand how you can do this every day,” Cloud admitted.

Without thinking, he wiped his cheek with his suited forearm, and sighed. Reno stared oddly, and then reached into his suit again to hand him a napkin.

Cloud gave him a confused look.

“You got decomp right here,” Reno said, gesturing toward his cheek.

Cloud could feel himself turning green. He dragged the napkin down his face immediately and looked at the streak of black matter that came away.

He nearly gagged.

Reno didn’t seem to notice. “I’m fuckin’ starvin’,” he said. “Let’s get somethin’ to eat.”

Cloud gave Reno a horrified look. “You wanna _eat?_ After all this?”

“Trust me, you will too,” Reno said, tossing the cigarette butt into a dirty puddle. “I gotta finish here. I don’t live far. You go home, grab a shower, and meet me at the Edge Fountain in about… ahh, ninety minutes? I’ll buy.”

Cloud didn’t need Reno to buy, and he certainly wanted nothing more than to go home, take a long shower, have Tifa make him a drink and forget about the day, but something made him wonder if that was _really_ what he wanted.

\--

Reno was right. Halfway through Cloud’s shower, he was so hungry that he thought his stomach was trying to eat itself.

When he got out of the shower, he saw that Reno had sent him the location of a local diner that was open at all hours of the night, close in distance to where Seventh Heaven was: not Reno’s place.

He changed into his usual--clothes that were still too heavy to be casual--and met Reno there, where the former had ordered a variety of raw meat to grill over fire. An assortment of pickled vegetables and side dishes, which Cloud happened to prefer, accompanied him.

Reno invited him to sit, as his took a short rib in his chopsticks and held it over the fire. “Hiya,” he said. With his other hand, he poured Cloud a beer from a small pitcher.

Cloud took his place across from Reno, picked up his own utensils, and set to eating. This food was something he had to get used to when he left Nibelheim, but his palette now considered it comforting. The marinated potatoes particularly called to him, and he wasted no time with them.

They _were_ hungry, and Cloud ate more meat than he’d eaten in the years since he was with Shinra. They didn’t say a word until Cloud had finally eaten enough to find a place to stop and ask Reno the question that’d been on his mind all evening.

“So Reno,” he said, chewing on a small pocket of rice he’d placed into his mouth. “You were a grunt?”

Reno had a mouth full of spicy pork, and used a napkin to cover his mouth as he talked, which was a surprise to Cloud--he’d always figured that Reno was a slob.

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

A waitress came and replaced an empty plate of radishes with a new one, and Cloud immediately set on it. “Where were you stationed?”

“The usual places. Midgar.” Reno dipped a piece of garlic he’d been grilling in the flame into bean paste and slipped it into his mouth, dropping his right arm back onto the top of the seat. “Junon before that. Wutai--”

Cloud’s eyes lit up. “Wutai?”

Reno used his napkin to wipe his hands and mouth. “Mm-hmm.”

“During the war?”

“I mean, I didn’t do a full tour, just under a year, but…” He blew air through his lips. “That was fuckin’ plenty, believe me.”

Cloud placed his chopsticks down and felt himself de-evolve into full boyish wonderment mode. “Did you see combat?”

Suddenly, the hours and heavy work of the day seemed to catch up with Reno. His blink dragged and his sigh seemed to take forever. “I saw everything, man.”

“What was it like?” He wasn’t sure if he could keep the excitement out of his voice when he asked.

“Horrible,” Reno said picking up his drink. “Unimaginable. All the stories you might have heard from motherfuckers that talk about it, up that shit to a thousand, and maybe you’ll get a clearer picture.” Reno drank, speaking over the rim of his glass. “Those guys are just bragging, mostly.”

A million irrelevant questions raced through Cloud’s mind. He couldn’t understand why; it’d been years since he’d fantasized about Wutai, but there was a combination of envy and admiration that wanted to work its way through his nervous system and onto Reno. Before he could decide on which ones would make for decent conversation, Reno solved that for him: “I don’t really like talking about it.”

The remark was more jarring than the visual of Reno working and taking anything as seriously as he did his job with body disposal. If Reno were anything Cloud had imagined, it was definitely the bragging type. However, Cloud had heard that people that respected their own mortality and time in war weren’t the types to discuss it, and it didn’t disappoint him that Reno was not that person, even though it didn’t fit with the narrative of who he and his friends thought Reno was. 

Cloud just nodded and picked his chopsticks up again and was picking at spicy cabbage when Reno spoke again.

“Apparently Rude was there at the same time, but I didn’t know him.”

That brought Cloud to another question:

“Were you there before the war ended?” Cloud finished eating, and sat back to work on his beer.

“Six months before the ceasefire.”

The cogs in Cloud’s mind began working, and his eyes turned to their open corners. “So wait…”

“Hm?”

“How old are you, Reno?”

Reno’s eyes lit up, and he instantly forgot about the food and drink in front of them. He leaned forward on his elbows and bit his lip. “How old do you think I am?”

Cloud hadn’t meant to be drawn into a game, but it really was a shock to him when he thought about it: Cloud had been thirteen or fourteen when the war was winding down, and by the time he joined, the treaty had long been signed. If Reno were there at that time, but was also sent to look for him and Zack five years ago...

Cloud shook his head. “I always thought you were _my_ age.”

Reno snorted and leaned back. “Yeah, ‘cause I’d be flyin’ helicopters at like, sixteen and make second in command of the Turks at twenty-one.”

“So how old are you, then?”

Reno could have pushed Cloud to play with him, but he saw that Cloud really just wanted to know, and he relented. “I’m thirty-one.”

Cloud sat back, examining Reno for any indication of age. At twenty-six, even _he_ had a small wrinkle or two under his eyes, and his freckles were a bit weathered, but there was no indication whatsoever that Reno was a day over twenty.

Reno saw Cloud’s bemusement, and it delighted him.

“You don’t look it,” was all he could say.

Reno was ready to reply. “My moms is from Cosmo,” he said with a wink. “The long-life gene skips every two generations, they say. Apparently, I’ve been blessed.”

Cloud didn’t see what was so great about growing so old that everyone you once knew was not only dead, but forgotten about. He kept that to himself, though, and picked at a bean thread while Reno went on.

“You think I look good,” he said. Cloud looked up, momentarily feeling a shock, but relaxed when Reno continued, scrolling through his phone. “You should see my moms. Bitch don’t look a day over thirty herself.”

“You’re calling your mom a bitch?” It wasn’t a serious inquiry. Cloud knew that this was just how Reno talked, but it was still shocking to hear someone refer to their mother in such a way, especially since he’d give anything for his mother to be alive, and the word “bitch” wasn’t a word he or his mother had in their vocabulary until Cloud had moved to Midgar.

“You gotta meet her,” he said dismissively. “Here.”

He held up his phone and showed a grainy photograph of Reno in his blue infantry garb, sans-helmet, with a brown-haired woman who had the same sharp jaw, the same blue eyes, and the same height. She could have been his sister, for all Cloud knew.

Cloud took the phone from him. “That’s your mother?”

“Sure is.” Cloud had one more glance at Reno before he handed the phone back. No discernable difference between him now and him back then. “She’s fuckin’ crazy,” Reno added.

“Not surprising,” Cloud quipped, his mouth to the rim of the beer. It was a feeble attempt at being playful with Reno, but it flew past the other man.

“Oh, we’re not even comparable,” he began. He rolled his eyes, and the way the dim light in the restaurant reflected off a portion of his irises caught Cloud instantly. “You think I’m fuckin’ crazy, this broad has entire fuckin’ conversations with herself and claims it’s our ance--”

“Wait.”

Reno stopped talking, and Cloud leaned forward on his hands, his eyes trying to pick up the faint, green glint behind the dull layer of blue.

Cloud’s bottom lip dropped a few millimeters, and he flopped back in his chair, eyes wide with the shock of his realization.

“You were in SOLDIER.”

Reno cocked his head, and the sly smirk returned to him. He narrowed his eyes at Cloud, a practice that anyone who had been through the program was known to adopt in order to dazzle conquests.

“ _All_ Turks were,” Reno said, reaching for his drink. “Besides the women. We get them from anywhere.” He looked to either side. “Thought you knew that.”

Cloud shifted uncomfortably. That did seem like an obvious mutation: first a grunt, then a black ops master, then a corporate gangster. He couldn’t believe that he’d missed that.

Envy and respect were extremely powerful when mixed. Reno seemed to detect this, and added, “I didn’t last long, though.”

“But you made it,” Cloud noted.

“Barely. They wanted me for flight school.” Reno tapped his forehead. “I got 23/20 vision. When I passed the Trials, they sent me there. Did it for six months, rocked out, retrained, and by the time I reported in, Angeal was off on some mission, and I realized it wasn’t for me. Never made it out of third class.”

“Angeal?”

“Uh huh. He was my sponsor.”

Cloud was torn between his overwhelming jealousy that someone as seemingly undisciplined as Reno could impress someone like Angeal and _still_ didn’t last long, and his embarrassment that someone like him had hoped to one day catch Sephiroth’s eye. And then there was the curiosity of it all: of all people, Reno was the last person he’d expected to have actually served, and to have made it into SOLDIER. He spoke about it so dismissively, it made Cloud wonder what he was missing. Not just about Shinra, but about Reno. 

“Cloud?”

Cloud chewed on the corner of his mouth and realized that his arms were folded. Recalling that Aerith had once told him that the gesture meant “go to heck,” he unfolded them, but couldn’t bring his eyes off of the table and used dishes.

“I just,” he started, with hesitation, “can’t believe you were in SOLDIER.”

As soon as Cloud had said it, he realized how insecure he sounded and full on expected some expression of disgust or superiority from Reno.

Instead, Reno leaned forward on his elbows again.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you _wasn’t._ You kill everything you do.”

Cloud was terrible at taking compliments, but he happened to be looking right into Reno’s eyes when he’d said it, and had a nearly out-of-body experience when he realized that this man was not exaggerating: he was being genuine. He had no emotional baggage with Cloud that would compel him to lie or attempt to make him feel better about his failures.

“Apparently not the SOLDIER trials,” Cloud huffed, cynically.

“Who the fuck cares, anyway? All that shit’s over with.”

“Apparently _I_ do.” Being honest with himself was a newly acquisitioned skill that hadn’t been going over well with Tifa. She seemed to consider every statement he made as something actionable, when he was really just stating facts and wanted to listen to someone give an alternative viewpoint, not an asspat. 

Reno blew air out of his nose and sat back fully to look at his friend. “You were a kid, Cloud. SOLDIER ain’t for everybody. It wasn’t for me.” He placed his hand on his chest for emphasis. 

_That was your choice,_ Cloud thought. His hands sank between his knees, and he was feeling increasingly embittered. _I wanted in, you wanted out._ “You seemed to do just fine.”

Reno grunted and rolled his eyes a bit. “My life under the Plate weren’t all that different from what we did in Wutai. You came from nowhere, dude. Nothing you experienced on your mountain could have remotely prepared you for Shinra.”

Cloud wasn’t trying to hear that though. Unlike Reno, he was there himself for every moment of his time with Shinra, and remembered that he was frightened and nervous and nobody trusted him: rightfully so. He remained confused and useless right up until Zack had been killed.

“Reno,” he said, with an annoyed shake of the head, “Plenty of young boys from the middle of nowhere ran off to join Shinra. They all did worlds better than I did.”

Reno shrugged. “Some people need a lot more time to grow up. It’s true. Trial by fire don’t work on everybody.”

Cloud thought about that. What had Tifa or Barret said in their misguided attempts to keep him from falling apart when they were saving the world? Why had they believed in him when an entire organization hadn't? 

“What else works, then?”

“Trial by… Meteor, I guess.”

Chin tucked down, Cloud closed his eyes and began to laugh quietly at Reno’s joke.

The smile on Reno’s face broadened, and Cloud suddenly realized that Reno’s feet had crept up to either side of his own. 

He could have moved. He didn’t though, and the silence between them invited Reno’s calves to stay longer, nearly hugging Cloud’s shins.

When he took a smoke out, Cloud slowly laid his hand across the table, and opened his palm, returning the coy Mako-eyed look Reno had given him earlier.

The exchange in their eyes would be the first of many seemingly psychic conversations that they would have. Reno shook a smoke into Cloud’s hand. 

“Old Girl’s definitely gonna kill me,” he murmured. Cloud took the cigarette, leaning forward onto the table so that Reno could light it for him. 

Reno draped his arm over the back of the seat. The way his eyes flickered down Cloud’s torso told the younger man that there was a _possibility_ that Reno had intentions for him besides just eating.

“What plans you got after this?” 

Cloud’s assumption confirmed, he turned on himself inwardly. “I gotta get back home. Tifa’s waiting on me.” Tifa was likely asleep, but his excuse was so thinly veiled and his body language so obvious that Reno just chuckled and nodded his understanding.

As they stood up to get ready to leave, Cloud asked for two more cigarettes.

Reno tossed the pack onto the table, and winked. “Keep it,” he said. “Don’t tell your mama.”

\--

His dream ended with the taste of his third ever cigarette in his mouth. He opened his eyes, remembering that Reno was always his supply for cigarettes, and that he’d neglected to buy any before leaving the city. He didn’t smoke when Reno wasn’t around, but he wished he had at least a pack so that he could share the experience with him from afar.

The sun was already up. Cloud ignored the swelling between his legs and rolled over to his phone. 

08:22. He’d slept less than five hours. Cloud rubbed a palm down his oily face and then raked a hand through his spikes.

He gave a quick glance at his messages.

Reno: home 04:30

Nothing from him after that. He hoped he was sleeping, and declined to message him just then, thinking it better to wait until he was sure to be awake. He himself had a long day ahead of him with a decent amount of work to do, including a six-mile trek on foot to the Chocobo Farm to drop supplies off to the Old Man and pick up two of his birds.

Cloud pulled himself out of his bedroll, put it away, and grabbed his sword on the way out to the well.


End file.
